Sunday, April 10, 2011

Hubba hubba

Sexy man.

Sexy man falls over.

*I kinda missed the first shot. He had the cutest little grin, one knee was up, ankles kind of crossed, propped up on one arm. It was really cute. But these are still cute.


I wrote some down today. The Cheek-isms.

On our way to church, in the car:
"I've got a big snort on me." (post snort)
During church (she did not want to go to the nursery and so she sat in service with me. I gave her a pen and paper to help keep her occupied, and we were practising her name, me trying to help her correctly write her letters):
"That's how you make a flat 'b'."
A "flat" 'b', huh?

During the car ride home from church (just out of the blue):
"Mommy, what the heck is a naught word?"
To which I replied, after defining what a naughty word is, "It's when you say words like damn and frickin. Those are words that don't sound nice coming out of a little girl's mouth." Words she has used in public. Once, but it was bad timing. sigh. (I know, I know. WHo's to blame? Yeah, me. :P )

Saturday, April 9, 2011


My four year old is great at saying stuff that is normal, but coming out of her mouth, the way she says it, the timing, it's just so darned funny. Often times she gets mad that we're laughing at her. We're not. She just doesn't understand that she's funny.

Cheeks just came inside and said to me, "I am so. freaked. out." "By what?" I ask. "Those dad's at the park, and I don't want to go by them."* "OK, then just ride your bike."

If only I could explain somehow or find the words that would adequately describe her inflection, but I can't. It's just one of those things you have to hear in person.

I am so. freaked. out.

Where DO they get this stuff? lol

*She is very skiddish around men. Koko was this way too for a long time. Exceptions are dad, grandpas and uncles, but at the same time, she can be won over fairly easily, as I recently witnessed at the doctors office.

Friday, April 8, 2011

If you met me

Have you ever heard of this little thing called 5 Minute Friday? Gypsy Mama's taken it on and today, at this moment, I feel like taking the bait.

Here's the scoop:
Got five minutes? Let’s write. Let’s write in shades of real and true and unscripted. Let’s just write and not worry if it’s just right or not. Write for 5 minutes flat for pure unedited love of the written word. Then link it back up @ The Gypsy Mama.

Ok. Here goes. Ready, set... ... GO

If you met me...

I'd wonder if you'd noticed my crazy finger nail polish today. And if you thought it looks like a Stripper's nails, too. Or that only one hand was painted. And that my pinkie was slighty more greenish.

I'd wonder if you thought I looked the the hurricane I feel like when I walk into a room.

You'd probably ask how many children I have, then gasp when I told you the number, and ask me "How do you do it?"

You'd see a pony tail. And jeans. A girl not too trendy. (A girl who thinks she's too fat to really be trendy.)

You'd find yourself plagued with questions from someone who wants to know more about you. Sometimes I call it nosy. Sometimes I just say that I'm curious. Where you're from, kids/no kids, job, why are you here, do you like lemons, who's your hairdresser. The norm. Really, I do just want to know more about you.

I might be distracted by my children. Or, I might be letting them run asunder so that I could have a conversation that didn't include listening to whining (I hope).

You might sense my need to have adult contact.

Oops. 8 Minutes. Sue me.

I guess that's it. Bummer. I'm trying to procrastinate cleaning my house just a bit longer. Ho hum. Laundry here I come.

Saturday, April 2, 2011


Mom, mom. Take a picture of me.



**Please note: I'm not that bad at focusing. My lens, combined with low light/large aperature/shallow DOF and a dancing diva equals sometimes blurry subject. Still cute shots, imho.